Solar Flares and Stellar Explosions
by Kakyd
Summary: Pep talks were not his forte. And the cheesy bar certainly wasn't helping. Mild Language. Kirk/McCoy friendship.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Not matter how much I wish otherwise.

**Solar Flares and Stellar Explosions  
**

The club was thrumming with the beat of the latest dance hits; the bass a steady thump-thump-thump vibrating up from the floor and through the bodies massed around the oblong bar taking up a vast portion of the upper level of the building. A glowing neon sign suspended by chains announced the club's name as Super Nova; below the animated exploding star demonstrating the namesake of the establishment was a list of space-themed cocktails and shots. The bar top was strewn with half empty Cardassian Sunrises, Black Holes and other concoctions; some of which glowed in puddles spilling across the wooden surface. Glasses were retrieved and replaced by bartenders manning either side of the bar. Patrons well on their way to guaranteeing themselves hangovers clustered in groups and sprawled on the spill rail or, in some cases, each other to remain upright.

On the lower level of the club was the glittering dance floor. The main source of light came from a projection of the Milky Way that filled the dance pit. Strobe lights cut back and forth highlighting the mass of undulating dancers that spilled from the lowered dance floor and up onto the steps leading to the bar. High above the crowd a massive spinning star slowly expanded and collapsed in a simulation of a never ending explosion. Scented smoke pumped out of the fog machines hidden above the DJ booth and the deep corners of the club.

This was not James T. Kirk's usual scene. On a regular night out, one could find Jim lurking around the seedier bars in San Francisco. He had a talent for finding those particular establishments that overlooked minor details like legal drinking ages and wouldn't cut a person off so long as the credit was good; the type of bar underage cadets would flock to.

The aspiring captain would usually find the competition in these dives to be essentially non-existent and he would end up with his pick of slightly tipsy and entirely willing young ladies. In a place like that he couldn't help but be noticed. His was a natural charm and he exuded confidence and charisma.

Usually. Tonight he was striving for anonymity.

The game plan was the opposite of his usual; tonight he didn't want to be noticed. He wanted to sit in his dark corner alone and drink until he couldn't remember rigged simulations and smug classmates and… damn it. He was trying _not_ to think about it.

A trio of empty glasses was gathered in one corner of his table in preparation for a waitress with an empty tray to grab them. Thus far, none had. Not that there were many available. This crowd was spending serious credits and the wait staff had been moving non-stop to keep the liquor flowing.

Further back in the shadows to his left, a young couple was trying to break the record for longest uninterrupted game of tonsil hockey.

Jim half heartedly hoped one of them would pass out from oxygen deprivation before long. That at least would be interesting.

The pounding beat suddenly changed and a flash from the dance floor drew his attention back to the crowd below him. A familiar figure was winding his way through the dancers with a drink in each hand and a scowl on his face.

Leonard McCoy made it through the crowd and up the stairs without spilling either drink, and plopped the glasses down on to Jim's table. His brandy sloshed over the rim of the glass and onto the worn leather of his jacket.

"Well, damn." Pulling the other chair back from the table he plopped into it, licking the spilled booze from the back of his hand.

"Bones." Jim tipped his drink in a mock salute and then downed the rest of it. The empty glass joined the others in the corner.

The older man leaned the chair back and surveyed the mass of bodies below them. Taking a slow sip of his brandy, he shot a glance at his companion.

"So, what are we doing _here _Jim? Suddenly acquired a need for shitty music and overpriced drinks?"

"I'm just sitting here, minding my own business and enjoying some beverages. I don't know what you're doing here."

He took a pull from the bottle McCoy slid to him.

"How'd you find me, anyway?"

"That was easy; all I had to do was follow the trail of broken hearted girls that aren't gonna get a shot at riding the infamous James T. Kirk this evening."

Jim snorted into his drink. Infamous. He wondered when that distinction started to bother him.

"You know, I gotta tell ya; this is not a good look for you."

"Everything looks good on me." He paused. "…what exactly are you referring to?" Another swallow and the bottle joined its brethren. A waitress swooped in and finally retrieved the pile. Her green and gold uniform sparkled as she stacked the glassware on her tray. It reminded him of watching stars through a view screen.

And he really needed to _not_ think about space at the moment.

He suddenly questioned his choice of establishment.

"No one looks good wearing a pout, James." He swigged the rest of the brandy and reached over the table to plunk the tumbler on the waitress' tray.

"Another round," he glanced at her nametag "…Terra. You guys have themed names too? "

"Nope." She gave the table a cursory wipe with her rag. "Venus'll be over with your drinks in a moment."

Raising her tray above her head, she marched off into the crowd.

McCoy shook his head and turned his attention back to his friend. Jim didn't look that drunk, which either meant that he had been sitting there for far longer than originally suspected or he wasn't drinking the hard stuff tonight. Well, not yet.

Taking a breath, he tried a different tack.

"Look, you're not the first to fail the 'Maru' and you most likely won't be the last. In fact it would have only been a first if you had passed…" he trailed off as the pout on Jim's face briefly morphed into a look bordering on misery.

"I don't care about the exam, Bones." He carefully rearranged his features into a neutral expression.

"Alright, I'll bite. What is it then?"

Jim glanced at him and then back down at the table.

A different waitress stepped up and placed their order on the table. Her uniform top sparkled with purple and silver; sure enough her name tag read Venus.

"What makes you think I'm in anything other than a fantastic mood anyway? Maybe I'm just enjoying the ambiance." He raised his glass and downed half of it. Chased it with a slightly bitter smirk.

McCoy just looked at him.

They sat not talking for a moment. The couple in the corner had been replaced by a trio of college students loudly arguing the merits of particular kinds of liquor.

McCoy felt the beginning tendrils of a headache. He leaned forward in his chair and fixed Jim with a stern look.

"Okay kid. I'm gonna share a secret with you, so listen up. One failed test does not equal a failed career, nor does it mean anyone thinks any less of you. Well no one that matters anyway. And I can't speak for those who don't. Matter that is."

Damn he was starting to ramble. He paused and took a swig of brandy. Pep talks were not his forte. Put him in a medical center with a dozen sick and injured persons and he could handle the problem without breaking a sweat.

Trying to talk his good friend out of funk on the other hand…apparently he hadn't quite cultivated those skills just yet.

Jim was staring at the dance floor again, but McCoy could tell he was listening. The older man turned to face the floor as well. A slower song was playing and couples were slung over each other as they swayed to the music. The strobe lights had stopped and the stars of the projected galaxy seemed brighter against the dark background.

"It's just the way things turn out sometimes. It doesn't mean anything in the long run. So you didn't pass one simulation; neither did anyone sitting their sanctimonious arses in Captain's chairs as we speak. "

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jim glance at him in surprise.

"Never thought of that, did ya?"

The surprise turned to contemplation.

McCoy snorted.

"And people say you're smart. Don't know where they came up with that idea." He sighed and emptied his glass.

"So, you gonna continue to pout in this god forsaken travesty of an establishment? Or are you going to suck it up, and realize that it's just another lousy simulation designed to remind us that shit can go as badly up there as it can down here."

Jim said nothing, but he no longer seemed to be upset. The doctor could almost see the wheels turning in the younger man's head as he processed the information.

"Well don't go straining anything thinking about it either." McCoy muttered.

"You know," Jim looked up, "you're right. "

"Damn straight I am."

Jim just smiled. "I'm going to take it again. And I want you there."

Now the doctor was the one that was staring. He hadn't seen that coming. Not at all.

"I'm sorry; I must have heard you wrong. You're going to take _what_ again?"

"The Kobayashi Maru. I'm going to do the simulation again. Like you said Bones, _no one _has passed it yet. So how great would it be if I did it? I'd be a shoe in for a Captaincy."

McCoy gaped at him.

"Are you out of your mind? Not only do you want to torture yourself again, but you want to drag me into your mess? No way. Not going to happen. I may not be a genius like some us claim to be, but even I know better than do that again."

The strobe lights jumped back to life, bouncing around the club and flashing over Jim's face. They seemed to make his smile seem vaguely diabolical.

"Come on, I'm going to need my best bud there for support." He prompted. Then smiled his patented James T. Kirk smile. The one that said 'I know you're going to give in, so you may as will stop protesting now.'

McCoy shook his head and sighed. He knew he was going to do it too. He just didn't want to admit it. But…he may as well get something out of it.

"If I say yes, can we get outta this place and get to a real bar? You know, one where the drinks don't glow?"

Jim beamed. Pushing his chair back, he stood. "Sure thing. I'll even let you buy me a drink."

"Oh I don't doubt that you will. Remind me again, why do I put with an insolent little brat like you?"

He followed Kirk through the holographic star field and crowd of dancers and up the stairs towards the door. They pushed through the queue waiting to enter and out into the fresh air of a clear San Francisco night.

"You put up with me because your life would be boring otherwise."

"Yeah...you're probably right. No more bar fights or angry boyfriends jumping us on the way home…I'd probably get more sleep and have less stress in my life. I see what you mean… I must be insane to associate with you."

"Not something that was in question in the first place, really." The smirk was back in place.

The older man punched Jim's shoulder. "You ought to have more respect for your betters."

"I think you meant elders."

"I know what I meant."

Jim smiled and followed a grumbling McCoy down the grimy sidewalk towards the bay and the district full of what McCoy called, 'Bars real men frequented'. Below them the water lapped gently at the shoreline and the distorted reflection of the night sky shone off of its rippled surface.

Kirk looked up and the stars seemed more friendly and enticing than they had earlier in the evening. He was going to live among them one day; as a Captain. And if he had anything to say about it, as the first captain to have passed the legendary Kobayashi Maru.

He was very much looking forward to it.

_______________________________

AN: Thanks to my sister who agreed to Beta for me. Of course I tinkered afterwards, so all mistakes are on me. Thanks for reading!


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